


Alphabet Soup: Racked with pain

by Windfighter



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen, Sorry Emil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 16:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12686181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windfighter/pseuds/Windfighter
Summary: Emil has a habit that's driving Sigrunnutsuntil she finally learns why he's doing it.





	Alphabet Soup: Racked with pain

**Author's Note:**

> I say "graphic depictions of violence" but it really isn't that bad. Honestly. But there is some and better to be safe than sorry, right?  
> Uhm... implied bullying, I should maybe warn for that as well? Hmm...
> 
> You all know I'm terrible at warnings and stuff, just go enjoy the story already.

Emil had a habit of checking his equipment ten times before they headed out. The first time Sigrun had thought it was kind of cute, in a novice kind of way. That he did it so she would understand that he took his job seriously. The second time the cuteness started to wear off. The _tenth_ time she was getting tired of it.

”Emil, will you stop that? Your equipment is fine!”

”Sorry, I'm soon done!”

”I don't care, just stop it!”

He didn't stop. The twelfth time Sigrun sat there staring at him while he did it. He started with the clothes, moved on to the fuel cans, the grenades, the knife, the gun and then the flamethrower before starting over again. He was thorough, she respected that, but did he need to be so thorough  _ten whole times_ ? His hands trembled under her gaze.

”Why are you even doing that?”

”Need to make sure everything works.”

His hands trembled again. Emil acted like it didn't happen, but Sigrun noticed it.

”Everything worked fine yesterday.”

Emil didn't answer. Sigrun kicked Mikkel's mattress, got up and walked away. No way she was going to sit there and watch him fiddle with the things for forty minutes.

The fifteenth time she grabbed his stuff and walked away with it, hoping he would follow. He did, but during the whole looting mission he seemed scared and jumpy and refused to touch any of his equipment. Luckily for him Sigrun was there when the beast attacked.

”You can't just freeze up like that. You have a knife, use it!”

Emil hmpfed, grabbed two of the bags filled with books and walked away. Sigrun blinked, stared after him. He disappeared behind a corner and she grabbed he remaining bags before running after him.

”What's up with you anyway?” she asked when she caught up.

”Nothing”, he answered.

But his eyes were far away, he didn't look at Sigrun, and she knew there was something.

The sixteenth time she refused to bring Emil along. He didn't protest, just put his equipment to the side and went back into the bedroom. Sigrun brought Mikkel instead, but bringing Mikkel was worse than having to wait forty minutes for Emil and next time the Swede came along again.

”But seriously Emil, why do you need to check it ten freaking times?”

”It... It's important to make sure your equipment is in top shape at all times.”

”But ten times?!”

Emil looked away.

”Better ten times than zero.”

”One time's more than enough.”

Emil shrugged and the discussion was over. Until the twentieth time.

xxxxxx

”Are you done soon?”

”Five more minutes!”

Sigrun tapped her foot, patrolled around the tank for the hundreth time. Fime minutes later Emil came outside and they could get moving. The site was close, just a quick fifteen minute walk, but the house looked sturdy. The door was already open, ripped from its hinges, and they entered. Emil blabbered, as usual, but Sigrun ignored him. She led the way up one stair and there they found the books. Great, this was going to be an easy loot!

Ten minutes of packing, then Emil stopped talking. Sigrun stopped packing the bags, looked at him. His face was tense, a little paler than usual, but he was still gathering books. She stretched her back, put her hands to her sides and stared at him.

”Something wrong?”

”I...” he dropped another book in the bag. ”I think I heard something.”

”Maybe we should use you as a scout instead of the twig”, Sigrun said and hit his back. ”Go check it out.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but then he left. Sigrun continued collecting the books, waited for him to return. Five minutes, ten, fifteen. How long could it take to check out a tiny sound? Twenty minutes. Twentyfive.

Gunshots. Sigrun dropped the books, ran downstairs. More gunshots, and she followed the sounds. There was an explosion, the building shook, but didn't fall down and then Emil flew out of the smoke, landed on the floor next to Sigrun, slid over it. Something large was on top of him and Emil's hands struggled to keep it away. Sigrun's hand found the knife before her brain caught up and she jumped onto the troll. Emil's scream cut through all the other sounds and Sigrun's knife sunk into the troll's head. It twitched under her, Emil screamed again, and then the troll collapsed.

”Emil! Are you okay?!”

He didn't answer. She jumped off the troll, started dragging it away, had to get it off Emil. He couldn't be dead,  _please Odin, don't let him be dead, because it would be my fault._ She got the troll out of the way, fell to her knees next to her bloodied right-hand warrior.

”Emil, talk to me!”

His eyes were clenched shut, as was his mouth, and he pressed his hands over his chest and his stomach.

”Emil!”

She grabbed his arms, forced him to move them away. His coat was torn, his shirt as well. She could see large wounds through the ripped fabric. He opened his eyes, looked at her. He was scared.

”Am I dying?”

”Not on my watch, pretty boy.”

The wounds were bleeding  _a lot_ though. She needed to wrap him up with something or he  _would_ die. Problem was all the first aid-stuff was back at the camp. Her fault and she bit her lip.

”Emil?” He had closed his eyes again. ”Emil, I'm gonna need your shirt.”

She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his coat. His hands grabbed the coat, held it closed.

”N-no...”

”Emil, there no time to argue, I need to wrap your wounds!”

She pried his hands off the coat, quickly pulled it off him, pulled off his shirt. And froze. The wounds were bad, but she had known that already. But she had been certain this was the first time ever Emil had actually gotten attacked. The first time he had gotten  _hurt._ Her fingers traced over his chest, his arms, his stomach. So many scars. Bitemarks. Burnmarks. Clawmarks.

”Emil...”

He turned his head away. She tried to catch his eyes, but then her fingers dipped into his blood and she shook her head.

”Your shirt is already ruined anyway so...”

She started ripping it, formed long strips of fabric that she wrapped over the wounds and tied to place using his belts. Mikkel wouldn't be happy with this.

”Talk to me, Emil.”

His face had gotten even paler, had pain written all over it, and his breathing was strained. Her gaze fell on the scars again.

”How did all of these happen?”

She pulled him into a sitting position, took her own coat off and dressed Emil in it. Mikkel would have a lot of laundry to do after this. Emil's hand traced over the burnmarks, but he looked away and she pulled him to his feet. He swayed and she wrapped her arm around him.

”Come on, we need to get you back. Think you can keep awake until we're back?”

Emil nodded and she led him back towards the exit, stopped by the stairs.

”I'm just gonna fetch the bags. Don't faint.”

She sat him down on the lowest step, rushed up and gathered the bags. They had only filled one of them and she forced the empty bags into it as well, swung it over her shoulder and rushed down again. Emil sat slouched against the wall, looked like he'd fall at any second and Sigrun hurried to pull him up again. The sight of the scars danced across her mind again. How had she not seen them before?

”Did... someone cause those?”

He took a shaky breath. She led him out of the building, towards the tank. She tried to get him to hurry his steps, it was only five minutes if they ran and he needed to get back, but Emil stumbled over his own feet, over the slightest bump in the road.

”I'd carry you, but I think you're too proud for that.”

She tried to sound light-hearted, but Emil didn't seem to hear her. His eyes, which had been open when they started the walk, was slowling dropping down, he had trouble keeping his head up and Sigrun tried to get him to move faster again. Twenty minutes, then they could finally see the tank. Twenty more minutes than Sigrun would have liked. Emil's knees folded and Sigrun sank to the ground with him, made sure he didn't crash. Ten seconds later Mikkel was there, pulled Emil from her grip. It took a couple of seconds for her to gather herself and follow him.

Mikkel worked quickly. He had already undressed Emil when Sigrun arrived, had already pulled off the improvised bandages she had wrapped him in. Sigrun sat down on Tuuri's bed, watched as Mikkel cleaned Emil up, stitched him together and wrapped him in actual bandages. She pulled off her uniform, let her hands trace over her own scars before putting her extra set of clothes on. A couple of bitemarks, one clawmark over her thigh, one over her back. The result of almost 20 years in the army. Emil had only been in the army for one and he was already covered.

She glanced at Emil. He seemed to be sleeping, his hands were twitching. Him being unable to hit the broad side of a barn didn't quite explain the damages he must have suffered. Mikkel peeked inside, told her Emil needed peace and quiet and then he gathered the uniforms and went outside to wash them. Sigrun stayed in the bedroom, her eyes resting at Emil all the time. He couldn't die, this was just a vacation, no one died on a vacation. She counted his breaths, let her eyes trace over the scars Mikkel had left visible.

After an hour he opened his eyes. He closed them again, but Sigrun got up from the bed, stood next to him and once again his eyes open. They met hers, and he looked away again, traced his hand over the bandages, over the burnmarks and over the scars.

”...my equipment failed”, he whispered.

She wanted to say something, didn't know what to say. Emil's hand fell to his side again.

”A leaking fuel can... A gun that wouldn't go off... A flamethrower that exploded in my hands...”

She noticed the scars over his hands now. How had she never seen them before? She looked away.

”My knife... replaced by a theatrical knife...”

”A theatrical knife?” she turned towards Emil again.

Emil nodded, still looked away.

”The blade goes into the handle... when you stab something.”

His body shook and Sigrun clenched her hands.

”Beasts”, he continued. ”Karl saved me... And I learned...”

He took a shaky breath and she could see tears in his eyes.

”Always check your equipment... And then check it again...”

”And again”, Sigrun said. ”And again. Emil...”

”I wasn't very popular... in the Cleansers...”

”You should come with me to Norway!” she tried to smile. ”You'd fit right in.”

He looked at her. The smile on his lips didn't reach his eyes.

”You know I wouldn't.”

He closed his eyes again, was going back to sleep. Sigrun ruffled his hair.

”You're right. But no one here will do anything with your equipment, so you can relax a little.”

She sat down on Tuuri's bed again, watched as Emil's breathing got slower and more relaxed. Now that she knew what was behind it, she'd try to have a little more patience with his habit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey, Karl peeked in again! He's an OC I created for an SSSS-story looooong ago, works with Emil as a cleanser. They're not quite _friends_ but Karl is still very friendly towards Emil. I'd tell you more, but I don't know much about him yet xD


End file.
